Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found
HereWhere we left off in Part 89 …Lois cracked open the closet door and watched as the nurse changed Clark’s sheets. She was thankful that she had decided not to hide in the bathroom or shower when she had woken to the sounds of the nurse talking to the policeman outside the door.
The nurse picked up something off the floor, glanced towards the closed bathroom door, and set it down on the table beside the bed. Lois wondered what it was, and hoped she hadn’t dropped anything. She had barely time to pick up her jacket, vest, and shoes and dart into the closest before the nurse had entered to check Clark’s vitals. Would Clark be able to convince the nurse to let him go straight back to bed, or would he be forced to go on a walk? Perhaps the walk to the bathroom and the shower would be enough to satisfy her. Lois wished the woman would just leave already, so that she could finally talk to Clark.
Why had the nurse kept calling Clark ‘John’? Why had he corrected her with the name ‘Jonathan’ instead of ‘Clark’? Henderson must have him here under an alias to protect him, she decided. She was once more impressed at the lengths the inspector was going to keep her partner safe, but enough was enough. She needed Clark.
Lois needed her partner, off whom she could bounce ideas. She had missed that give and take that they had. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but she had felt lost without him today.
Lois needed Clark to hold her as he had when they had cuddled on his bed. Even in his sleep, he had automatically wrapped his arms around her, as if he had been dreaming of her. Clark had mentioned to the nurse that he had dreamed he was in heaven, so maybe he had dreamed of her. Of course, he hadn’t
really been asleep at first.
Lois hadn’t meant to fall asleep either, or turn him on. She especially hadn’t meant to spill the last of his cold tea onto the bed when she had bolted for the closet. She felt a little guilty that the nurse thought that Clark had wet himself.
She had only broken in to reassure herself of his safety and well-being, not to kiss Clark and certainly not to sleep with him. He just seemed to have that effect on her. He kept drawing her in, pulling down her defenses, and bringing out a side of her that she hadn’t thought existed anymore. Perhaps he only thought he was dreaming because when he awoke she had been gone. Either that or he was covering for her. Yes, he must have been covering for her. The way his hands had touched her… no. He must have been awake, because if he could touch her like that while he was asleep… Lois felt her face warm as naughty thoughts crossed her mind.
She needed to protect Clark. He made her feel protected, even when she knew he was the injured one, and she was the well one. She felt the need to keep him safe as well, which was why she needed to get him back with her. She knew nobody would protect Clark as well as Mad Dog Lane. She hadn’t taken all those years of karate just for kicks.
Lois needed Clark to contact Superman, so that he could save the Earth.
Part 90*********************
Searching for Superman*********************
The nurse shut the bathroom door when she went inside to help Clark into his new hospital gown, so Lois stole over to the bed to see what the nurse had picked up from the floor. It was the drawing of Lois from Clark’s spare glasses case. It must have fallen out when he… but he wasn’t wearing the glasses. He still had his sunglasses on. Had he removed the picture on purpose? A warm feeling came over Lois as she realized that Clark must have missed her as much as she had missed him.
She set the picture back down and quickly slipped on her vest and jacket. She continued to hold her shoes in her hand, not wishing to make a sound. Lois heard a murmuring of voices and ducked on the far side of the bed before the bathroom door opened. The nurse returned to the room. She watched as the nurse went to the very closet in which Lois had been hiding, and opened it. Lois’s heart began to race as she realized how close she had been to being caught. She knew that Clark would never give her up, but the nurse or policeman wouldn’t be as forgiving of Lois and Clark’s tryst.
The nurse retrieved the black bag, which Lois had brought Henderson, and took it into the bathroom. Lois stood up to make her escape back through the window, only to see that the nurse hadn’t entered the bathroom completely but waited on the threshold. Lois ducked back down, peering over the edge of the bed.
“I’ve got this,” Lois heard Clark say before he shut the door. She smiled.
Good, because Lois would hate to get caught due to an altercation with Clark’s nurse for peeping at her partner while he was in or just out of the shower.
The nurse returned to the room, and Lois slunk down lower, hoping the nurse didn’t head her way. Instead, the nurse went to the door, opened it, and informed the guard that she wanted to take ‘John Doe’ on a stroll along their ward.
John Doe? That was an unimaginative alias. Lois wondered if Henderson had thought of it.
Unfortunately, the nurse once more stood in the doorway as she talked to the policeman, so Lois couldn’t sneak to the window and back into the other room two doors down, or meet up with Clark in the bathroom to ask him to contact Superman, which was why she had come to the hospital in the first place. She waited in the shadows, hoping the nurse would exit and close the door.
Clark picked that moment to open the bathroom door. He still wore his sunglasses and his hair was damp from the shower. Lois was happy to see that he had gone with the single curl style, instead of the double curl he had been so fond of when they had first met. She had no idea why he had styled it that way earlier this evening.
He was now wearing a pair of workout shorts,
just the shorts. He still rolled the IV stand along with him. It was all Lois could do
not to jump the bed and dive into his arms. She had wanted to do a hands-on examination of Clark’s bare chest since the first moment she saw it, many moons ago. If the nurse would just shut the damn door, she could finally do it!
Lois was about to whisper to Clark that he shouldn’t walk around so underdressed for a man found in the Bay that morning, but the nurse turned back into the room.
“Couldn’t I just put on a t-shirt?” Clark inquired, speaking to the nurse.
The nurse held up a hideous hospital gown; this one in light blue. “When in Rome…”
Lois saw Clark’s brow furrow, before he turned his back towards her and allowed the nurse to assist him with the ties to the nightgown. Now, Lois knew why he had wanted the shorts. He had such broad shoulders the gown hardly reached his mid-thigh and didn’t close properly in the back. Lois was sure the view wasn’t half as nice as it could have been without the shorts. Another time, then.
“I thought this was Metropolis,” he finally replied.
That was a strange thing for Clark to say. That knock to the head must have delayed his usually witty comment. His tone sounded off too, almost as if he was serious.
“It’s just a saying,” the nurse responded, as if she were taking him seriously. “Yes, you’re at the Metropolis County Hospital, and while you’re here…”
He nodded as if he vaguely remembered someone mentioning that to him. Where had he thought he’d been pulled from the sea? Gotham City? Had he thought that Lois had come all the way out there with Superman missing? Okay, maybe she would have, but still…
“Oh, I found this when tidying up earlier. Is it yours?” the nurse asked, picking up the drawing from the tray table. Lois had to scoot under the head of the bed so they wouldn’t notice her.
Clark nodded.
“Who is she?” the nurse asked.
“That’s my wife,” he whispered.
His what? Lois jumped almost bumping her head on the bottom of the bed.
“You wife?” the nurse asked with excitement. “Tell me about her.”
Clark shook his head. “I mean, I’d like her to be my wife,” he corrected.
Say, what? Clark wanted to marry her? They had only started dating. They weren’t even official yet.
He went on, staring at the drawing. “We could live in a big house with a yard, and have two kids, a boy and girl, and maybe even a cat.”
Lois grimaced. That sounded awful. A cat? Wouldn’t it try to eat all of her fish? Ditto with the kids. Trying to eat her fish, that was.
“Oh,” the nurse said noncommittally. “So, she’s your girlfriend?”
Clark looked at the picture and sighed, “I hope so.”
He
hoped so? Okay, maybe they weren’t out and about and all official like, but they had exchanged private ‘I love yous’, a bunch of stolen kisses, plus what had just happened on the bed, and in her book that meant something. Did he think she did that with everyone? She wasn’t Cat Grant.
Lois knew she had taken charge just now, being that he was in the hospital, but she was sure she hadn’t done everything on her own. It had been hard to read his facial expressions with those dark sunglasses over his eyes, but body language didn’t lie. Clark had enjoyed it as much as she had. Although, if he was on pain medicine, he might not have been fully cognizant… her hand went to her face. She gulped and her eyes widened. Had she taken advantage of Clark in his reduced capacity? She knew it had been too easy.
The nurse opened the closet and removed a terry cloth robe. “You need to stay warm. We’re just going to drape this over your shoulders, because of the IV,” she said, setting the maroon robe on his shoulders.
“I’ve gotten permission from Officer Jones to walk you up and down the hall,” the nurse told him. “Why don’t you…”
“Jones?” he asked, his posture stiffening.
It was such a common name; Lois wondered why it caused this reaction in him.
Lois tilted her head. With Clark’s hair damp and that stiff posture, from the back… No. She was imagining things, lack of sleep and all. He almost looked like another man.
“Do you know him?” the nurse asked, opening the door, so Clark could see the policeman.
Clark stared at him for a minute and then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Officer Jones, meet Mr. Jonathan Smith,” the nurse said.
Lois rolled her eyes at the awful joke.
“Smith?” Clark said, sounding doubtful. Didn’t he know the nurse was making fun of his alias? Had that bump to his head made him more dense than usual?
“Better than ‘Doe’, isn’t it?” the nurse replied.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said.
“If you’re going for a walk, so am I,” the officer said, standing up.
The three of them moved away from the door and down the hall, allowing the door to close. This was Lois’s chance to escape; only they had headed off in the direction of the room she had gone through before. Maybe since the officer had left his post, she could sneak out through the front door, so to speak.
They were moving quite slowly, because the nurse was treating Clark like some geriatric invalid instead of a man still in his twenties, so Lois allowed an entire three minutes to pass before opening the door a crack to peer out to see if the coast was clear. It was.
In the meantime, she had found a scrap of paper and pen to scrawl Clark a quick note to contact their mutual friend on her behalf, and stuck it inside the glasses case. It was the only place Lois could think of where Clark was apt to look, but nobody else would. She only hoped he would look in there tonight, when putting his drawing of her away. There had already been enough delays.
It was after 10:30 at night, and the floor was mostly deserted. There was an alcove with the nurses’ desk halfway down the corridor, but the area of the hall, where Clark’s room was located, was mainly patient rooms. The nurse, Clark, and Officer Jones had stopped at the nurses’ desk to take a break. Lois saw that there was no one around and stole out into the hall, and that was when she heard Clark gasp.
Lois glanced down the hall at them, wondering if she had been spotted, but Clark was looking at a newspaper.
“That’s Superman,” the nurse replied.
Duh! Lois thought, turning to tiptoe away.
“Superman?” Clark repeated.
Lois froze.
“That’s from yesterday. I’m sure today’s paper is around here somewhere,” the nurse said, leaning over the desk. “That’s from before he took off to stop the asteroid.”
“He
stopped it?” Clark asked, awe filling his words.
“Yes, Superman is really strong and fast and, as you can see, he can fly. He’s from another planet. That’s why he can do what he can do,” explained the nurse. “He’s been our local hero since last summer.”
“Krypton,” interjected Officer Jones. “That’s where he’s from.”
“Krypton?” Clark repeated, sounding almost in shock.
“He flew up to the Nightfall asteroid and hit it like a bomb, breaking it apart,” the nurse went on, clapping her hands together to demonstrate.
“I heard that he didn’t get rid of it all,” the officer said. “There’s still another piece heading towards us. It’ll be here in three days, and LNN says it’s going to change life as we know it on Earth.”
“Three days?” Clark echoed as if all of this was news to him. Of course, he hadn’t been around for the press conference, so it was news to him. “Is this real?”
Real? Lois was staring intensely at her partner now, if that was who he truly was. She knew that it was. She
had kissed him after all. She would recognize those lips anywhere.
“I’m afraid so, honey,” replied the nurse, patting his shoulder.
Clark dropped the newspaper. “The world’s going to end in just three days?”
“Actually, it’s more like two days now. It had been three days this morning. Anyway, that’s what some nay-sayers predict,” said the officer. “Not me, though. I know that the army will blow it up with that rocket they talked about this morning.”
“What about this Superman fellow?” Clark asked. “Couldn’t he stop it? Or did he…?” His voice faltered.
Lois took a step towards them, her eyes focusing on him.
Did he WHAT, Clark?The officer flung up his hand as if Superman was a non-entity. “Nah, he ain’t dead. Supposedly, nothing can kill the guy, bullets, bombs, lava; he’s impervious. He’s disappeared, though. Nobody can find him.”
“That seems kind of strange,” Clark said, not accepting what the officer was telling him at face value. “Why would he go after the big asteroid, and leave the little one?”
“He deserted Earth in our hour of need, just when we needed him most,” the officer said. “Some hero.”
Lois’s hands turned to fists and her eyes to slits.
Defend him, Clark, she thought.
Tell him that Superman would never do that to us. Tell him!“Is life as it is really going to end in two days, and I have no memory of it at all?” Clark asked, his voice full of sadness.
Lois’s jaw dropped.
No memory? But she and Clark had… If he didn’t know who she was, he wouldn’t have… would he have? No, of course, Clark was just faking the amnesia. He knew who
she was, didn’t he?
‘She’s my wife’ he had told the nurse about that drawing.
But he had kissed her… Of course, he had. He
was a man, and she was a willing woman, so no diagrams were needed. Blank Clark probably thought it was his lucky night.
She growled and vowed to kill Henderson.
*
“The world isn’t going to end,” Michelle reassured Clark.
“Maybe something happened to Superman,” suggested Clark. “Maybe he’s confused, like me, and doesn’t know that he needs to save the…
save the world.”
Wasn’t that the exact phrase that Meena had used in her note to Chuck? Had she meant literally? Was Chuck really ‘Superman’, and Meena some kind of ‘Superwoman’? He turned to look back over his shoulder at his room, as if that would help him know the answer to that question. He saw a woman with almost shoulder-length brunette hair and a maroon jacket turn away and march off down the hall. “Meena?” he murmured. He wanted to call out to her, but she was no longer there, if she had ever been in the first place. Maybe he had imagined her as he had in his room.
Was that really her, or was it just someone who looked like her? Had she been here the whole time? Had they really kissed? Had they made love? On the other hand, had it all been a wonderful dream? Was she real? No, she was only a fantasy… but what if she were based on someone real?
“Who?” Clark asked himself.
“What? Is someone there? Do you recognize him?” Officer Jones said, pulling out his gun.
Clark’s heart accelerated, pounding in his chest. “No, nobody was there.” If Meena were real, he would want her to survive to save the world. He had two days to find her, the real her, the woman in the picture he discovered in his glasses case. “And I don’t know anybody.”
“Wait here,” Officer Jones ordered. “I’m going to check out your room.” He headed down the corridor.
“I want to go back to my room now,” Clark told Michelle. He wanted to go back to that picture. He was glad that they had gone for this walk. His muscles had needed the stretch and he was feeling himself, or what he guessed would be himself, again. They made it back to his room in half the time it had taken to go to the nurses’ station.
Officer Jones exited the room just before they got there. “There’s nobody there,” he said.
“As I said, I didn’t see anyone,” Clark repeated.
“Can’t be too sure,” Officer Jones reminded him.
“Better safe than sorry,” Michelle agreed.
Clark entered the bedroom, and his nurse followed him. He walked over to the window, where Meena had entered from in his dream. He tilted up his sunglasses to gaze into the darkness. A ledge ran outside the windows. It was possible for someone to have walked along the ledge and pushed the window open from the outside. He liked the idea that Meena was real. Whoever the woman was who had kissed him, she must be a fantasy. He had called her ‘Meena’ and she hadn’t corrected him, and she would have known he wasn’t ‘Chuck’. Whoever she was, he wanted her to come back. He had at least three hours before Michelle would check on him again.
“Are you looking for something?” Michelle asked.
He dropped his sunglasses back over his eyes, mostly so she couldn’t see the expression of longing in them. “My life. I’m sure it’s out there, more than in here.”
“Come back to bed, Jonathan,” Michelle said, pulling back the covers.
With a resigned sigh, he did as she bid. The nurse tucked the blankets back around him and picked up the hat. He gave her a look that read ‘Do I have to?’
“Your head is still wet from the shower. It would be good to warm it back up with the cap,” she said, plopping the monstrosity back on his head. She headed for the door, dropping the room back into darkness before leaving.
As soon as she was gone, he pulled off the sunglasses and the hat, and returned to looking at the drawing of the woman he had found in his glasses case.
Who was she?
***
Lois marched into Henderson’s office early the next morning, closed the door behind her, and crossed her arms. “No more of this cat and mouse stuff, Henderson. I need to see and talk to Clark.”
“Good morning to you too, Lane,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. He should have known he had gotten off too easily the day before.
“You can’t keep Clark under lock and key,” she said.
“I can’t, can I? He’s a material witness in an attempted murder case,” Henderson said.
“He’s a victim,” she corrected him. “Why don’t you get the information you need from him, and then release him into my care? He would be better off with me, and you’d be free of one more headache.”
“Oh, really?” Henderson said, bringing his hands together. Would he be able to get Mad Dog Lane to confess that she actually had feelings for her partner, other than friendship?
“Really. I need him,” she admitted, and then added, “For this story I’m working on.”
“Someone is trying to kill him, Lane. He needs MPD’s protection,” he said.
“I can’t wait to report that the MPD has a new mandate to protect every person in Metropolis, whom someone has threatened with a crime or where someone has made an attempt on his or her life. I’m sure all those spousal abuse victims and those in gangland wars will be thrilled,” she replied dryly.
“Lane, you know as well as I do that this isn’t a Metropolis City mandate,” Bill said, remembering why he didn’t befriend reporters, as he rubbed his brow.
He could see Lois tallying that point in her win column before continuing on, “If the Daily Planet reports that Clark Kent was almost killed in an attempt on his life, don’t you think that would scare away the killer, because he knows the MPD has a witness who could ID him, and those around Clark would be more vigilant about his safety?”
“Uh… I can’t do that,” Henderson replied. He couldn’t get Kent’s statement without his memories.
“Why not?” Lane asked, almost too smugly even for her. Had White told her about Kent’s amnesia after promising him that he wouldn’t?
“The killer might come after him. I can’t risk Kent’s life,” Henderson said, dodging the true reason.
“Don’t you think that’s up to Clark? I bet if you asked him, he’d rather be released into my care than stay in yours,” she retorted.
Bill was almost tempted to take that bet. If Kent didn’t recognize Lane, why would he choose her over police protection? If he did, it meant he had gotten his memories back, and he could take Kent’s statement. Of course, Kent was a blank slate. Bill looked at Lane and tried to picture what he would think of her without knowing anything about her. Kent would see a pretty, brunette woman who wanted him. He knew that a part of Kent loved Lane. Henderson had eyes, and that was easy to see. For some reason, even with his brains, Kent found her pushiness attractive, and might do so again. “I can’t do that. He’s not being released from my custody until I get a statement from him.”
“So, get your statement from Clark. I’ll even accompany you. As I said yesterday, you wouldn’t have asked for his clothes, unless he was well enough to be released from the hospital. Therefore, he should be well enough to tell you everything you need to know,” Lane said with a gloating smile, and he knew that he had walked into her trap. Damn!
Fine! Clearly, she knew the truth already. Therefore, there was no point in his keeping it from her any further. “He doesn’t remember a thing. Where he works, who he is, me, you, or what happened to him the night before last. He can’t give me his statement until he remembers.”
“I know,” Lane said, glaring at him. “You lying, sneaky, underhanded…”
“You know?” he said, playing his part to see where she was headed and hoping she would give away her hand.
“Yes, I followed you to the Metropolis County Hospital last night where you dropped off the black bag. I know that Clark has amnesia, which is why he would be better off in my care instead of yours,” she said.
“Says who?” he retorted, annoyed with himself for thinking Lane had listened to him the night before. Once Mad Dog got hold of something, she never let it go.
As if on cue, there was a knock on his office door and Dr. Teri McCorkle walked in.
“Doc?” Bill said, standing up and feeling blindsided. “What are you doing here?”
“I got a note asking me to be present at this meeting,” Dr. McCorkle answered, looking confused.
“Dr. Teri McCorkle? Lois Lane,” Lane said, holding out her hand. “I’m Clark Kent’s partner at the Daily Planet.”
Henderson knew Lane was good, but he never thought she would go around him to use his own department shrink against him.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Lane. How can I help you?”
“You examined Clark yesterday, isn’t that correct?” Lane asked.
“Yes,” Dr. McCorkle answered.
“Could you please tell me what would be best thing for Clark?” Lois said. “What does he need to regain his memories?”
“Clark needs to be surrounded by familiar people, do familiar things, his memory will come back to him in time,” Dr. McCorkle explained. “We just need to be patient with him.”
Lois turned to Henderson. “Sounds like to get the information you want out of my partner, you need to let him come with me,” she said.
How in the world did Kent ever win an argument with this woman? Henderson looked at Dr. McCorkle, and said, “That’s asking a lot, doc.”
“I’m patient!” Lane insisted, crossing her arms. “Now, give me Clark!”
“And you still think releasing Kent into your care is the best thing for him?” Henderson countered. He knew he was losing this argument, but he wasn’t going to allow her to leave having scored all the points.
Lane ignored his barb. “Clark
needs to be surrounded by familiar people, be in familiar places, and do familiar things. He won’t get that in MPD protective custody. So, yes, giving Clark to me to watch will be the best thing for him. As soon as he regains his memories, I can bring him back to you to find out who did this to him.”
Bill crossed his arms and gave her his best skeptical expression.
Lane faced Doc McCorkle. “What could have caused his memory loss?”
“Several possibilities,” the doctor answered. “If we hadn’t found him in Hob’s Bay, I’d guess that anxiety caused by the asteroid could be a factor. Since we did find him in the bay, I’d say Mr. Kent’s amnesia was trigged by physical trauma.”
“Well, he got knocked down by a car and hit his head, but that was two days ago,” Lane said.
“It could be delayed reaction. He also could have been injured just before or after going into the water,” Dr. McCorkle admitted. “That would explain the bump on the back of his head.”
“Will he be okay?” Lois asked, sounding more like Kent’s friend or loved one than his partner.
“Physically, he’s fine, other than the hypothermia and the slight concussion, which he seems to be recovering from without any ill-effects,” Dr. McCorkle said. “Whether he regains his memory immediately, I don’t know. Based on a battery of questions that I asked, it seems as if Clark is suffering from what we call the ‘Superman complex’.”
“I told Clark that he has nothing to worry about regarding me and …” Lane paused and glanced over at Henderson, before clearing her throat. “Oh, really? There’s no reason Clark should have any problem with Superman.”
Bill rubbed his nose to hide his grin. From what
he had seen, Kent didn’t have any problems with Superman whatsoever. At the same time, should Lois ever see what Henderson had, Kent would be dead meat, especially since he was now vulnerable. Bill wished he could witness said confrontation. That in itself might be worth allowing Lane this win in order for her to see the similarities between her partner and the missing hero. No, as tempting as it would be to see Lane knocked speechless, Kent deserved the right not to have said similarities advertised to his partner without his say so. Kent hadn’t told her for a reason, and Henderson needed to honor that.
“No, I mean, he’s a chronic do-gooder. This kind of set-back can be very frustrating,” Dr. McCorkle explained.
Lane’s face showed exasperation at that statement. “How could losing all one’s marbles
not be frustrating? Especially with an asteroid bearing down on the world?”
“He doesn’t remember that,” Dr. McCorkle reminded Lois. “And we haven’t told him about it yet. He’s coherent and responds positively to mental stimulation. He does still have some minor vision problems, bright light hurting his eyes, but he says that’s getting better. I expect that to be gone by this morning.”
“See,” Lois said, turning back to Henderson. “Clark should come home with me.”
“Do you have a personal relationship with Mr. Kent?” Dr. McCorkle asked, which caused Lane to turn her head so fast that she must have missed the grin reappearing on Henderson’s face.
“Huh? What do you mean?” Lane asked defensively with a worried glance at him. “We’re
partners… and
best friends.”
Oh-oh! Something
had happened between Lane and Kent, but she didn’t want the world to know. He wondered why. If the world thought Kent was Superman that would be one thing, but with him being vulnerable and in the hospital, those rumors would be quashed, should they have existed. No wonder Kent had been so upset when Henderson had implied that there was something inherently bad about secret relationships. Kent, or most likely his Superman persona from Lane’s reaction, had been having a liaison with Ms. Lane. Somehow, Kent had been able to shift that onto his Kent persona. Yes, that would be safer for Lane.
The doc must have seen the same expression on Lane’s face that Bill had, because she shot him a look, which told him that Lane was lying, as if he didn’t already know that. “If you did have a more intimate relationship with Mr. Kent, I would recommend that you refrain from telling him so. He doesn’t have any memories of those feelings, and he might become defensive, or more self-conscious, upon learning about them. It would be best to re-introduce him to people he knows, where he works, his home…”
“But according to Ms. Lane, Kent was taken from his apartment. If whoever abducted him discovered he was still alive, wouldn’t they look there first to finish him off?” Henderson countered.
“I promise not to leave him alone,” Lane retorted. “He can come home with me.”
“As I was saying, Ms. Lane, the best way for Mr. Kent to regain his memory is to be around familiar places and people, which includes
his home,” Dr. McCorkle suggested. “I recommend though, for the time being, that you don’t tell him how you think he should feel about people and things. Let him decide for himself whether he likes or dislikes someone or something. This is the best way for him to transition back to his old memories, and not cause him confusion.”
“That’s asking a lot, Doc,” Henderson said, tugging once more at Lane’s chain.
“Are you saying that I’m opinionated? That I can’t see things from other people’s point of view? That things are black or white, up or down, my way or the highway?” Lane growled.
Henderson scoffed. “Whatever would make you think I believed that?”
Lane glared at him.
Bill figured he might have lost this battle, but that didn’t mean he was out of this war.
***
Clark rubbed his wrist where they had taken out the IV. It felt good to have his freedom again. Inspector Henderson had called Clark to inform him that he would be picked up shortly. In the black bag, which the inspector had brought him the previous evening, he had found a suit, shirt, tie, and pair of shoes. Other than the shorts, sweatpants, and a t-shirt, those were the only clothes available to him. Henderson had taken the clothes that the nurses in the Emergency Room had taken off him when he arrived as evidence.
He had taken a shower the night before, and despite having probably not shaven since two days previously, he appeared to have no discernible growth on his chin. That was good, because he hadn’t wanted to shave with no memories of how to do it anyway. He straightened his tie, which Michelle had helped him tie minutes before, prior to leaving at the end of her twelve-hour shift. He could hear someone else moving around in his room. Clark stepped out of the bathroom.
“Hello,” he said to the new nurse, which he saw straightening his bed.
“Hi, Mr. Doe, I’m Camille. I’ll be your nurse today. Although, by the looks of it, you’ll be discharged shortly,” she said.
“Hello, Camille,” he replied. Clark didn’t want to go through the same conversation he had conducted with Michelle the night before about why he didn’t want to be called John Doe. The name still made the muscles in his stomach tighten for no good reason that he was aware of, but he would be soon out of the hospital and to some place where everyone would know to call him Clark.
The nurse lifted up the picture of the brown haired woman he had found in his glasses case from his tray table. “She’s pretty,” she said. “Is she your sister?”
Clark blanched, and the oatmeal in his stomach from breakfast turned to lead. “Goodness, no! I hope not,” he sputtered. Grabbing his glasses case, he returned to the bathroom and re-brushed his teeth after that horrible thought caused the taste of bile in his mouth. He leaned against the sink and took a couple of deep breaths. “She’s not your sister. She’s not your sister. She’s not your sister,” he repeated, but the truth of the matter was, he didn’t know.
He removed his dark sunglasses and stuck them into the chest pocket of his suit. Then he wiped his face with a cool washcloth. He opened his glasses case to find a torn piece of paper inside, which hadn’t been there when he had discovered the drawing of the woman. He unfolded it.
C –
No time to stay and chat. Contact HIM and tell him I need him. We’re depending on you.
L –Clark stared at the note. He had read it through three times now. He guessed that
he was “C” for Clark, but who was “HIM” and who was “L”? It wasn’t a romantic note, like the one from Meena to Chuck, so “L” could be either feminine or masculine. It was direct, to the point, and made no sense whatsoever.
His mind flashed on the image of the woman he had seen in the hall the night before. The one who reminded him of the woman from the drawing or, more accurately, reminded him of the woman from his dream… his
very, very good dream.
“She’s
not your sister,” he told the man in the mirror, and he almost believed himself this time.
He had styled his hair this morning with only the one curl on his forehead, because that was how the woman in the dream told him it should be. For some reason, though, that style just didn’t look as much like
him, as the two curl style did. As if he knew what
he was supposed to look like?
He looked at himself in the mirror and shrugged.
“Chuck,” he said to the man in the mirror. “Meena needs you.”
“
This isn’t the best spot for us to talk,” Clark heard a masculine voice reply. “
Do you think you’re up to flying?”
His eyes widened, and he glanced around the empty bathroom. Had he really heard it, or had it been a memory?
Slipping his glasses on, Clark mumbled to himself, “I’m going crazy.” He snapped the empty glasses case closed and left the room.
Henderson was waiting for him. “You’re looking better,” he said.
“Thanks,” Clark replied. He wished he could say he felt better. He bent down to the black bag, and slipped the glasses case into the outside pocket. He exhaled and picked up the drawing from his tray table. “Do you know who this woman is?” he asked the inspector, handing him the picture. “I found it… in my stuff.”
Inspector Henderson raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at the picture.
“She isn’t my sister, is she?” Clark hadn’t meant to ask the question; rather it slipped out in a rush.
Henderson tilted his head and looked at him with the brow still raised. “No, no. She’s not your sister. This looks like your partner… well, if she ever cut her hair, that is.”
“Partner? Like my girlfriend?” Clark asked with hope, a huge boulder disappearing from his chest. With longer hair? Like the woman he had seen in the hall the night before? Maybe he hadn’t dreamt it after all.
Oh, God! Maybe he hadn’t dreamt it after all. His eyes widened in fear.
A wisp of a smile appeared on the inspector’s lips. “Mad Dog? Oh, I don’t know about ‘girlfriend’. She’s your writing partner at the Daily Planet,” Inspector Henderson said, handing back the drawing. “She’s right outside. I’ll introduce you.”
Clark froze in his tracks, staring at the drawing.
Her name was ‘Mad Dog’? He just couldn’t picture it. Horror descended upon him. He had fantasized about his business partner, his co-worker, who went by the name of ‘Mad Dog’? Oh, dear, this couldn’t be good.
Henderson turned at the door and looked back at him. “Come on, Clark. It’s okay, she doesn’t bite… actually, let’s not say that. Why don’t you decide for yourself?” he said, holding out his hand to coax Clark out the door.
Clark picked up his black bag and, slinging it over his shoulder, hesitantly followed him.
Just out in the hall stood the most beautiful, sexy, passionate woman he was sure he ever had the pleasure to dream about. Holy crapola. Meena was real.
She stared him straight in the eye as if daring him to mention what had happened between them in his mind. She both frightened him and allured him at the same time. If he hadn’t been in love with her before he had bumped his head and lost his memories, he certainly was now.
“Clark Kent,” Henderson said. “Meet Lois Lane.”
***End of Part 90*** Part 91 Comments ?
